Missing in Action
by xenos216BC
Summary: 30 years have passed since the Doors of Death were closed, and relations between the two demigod camps are far from great. When a Roman praetor goes missing on a trip to Camp Half-Blood, Camp Jupiter threatens war. 3 heroes must prove the Greeks innocent.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. First fanfic, so please Read and Review! I'd really like to hear what you think about this; if you love it, let me know. If you hate it, definitely let me know so that I can make any changes you think it might need! As an added bonus, if anyone can guess what the date in my pen name refers to, I will give you absolutely nothing of value other than my everlasting respect and admiration. But please do review. Here goes.**

Chapter 1: In Which My Mathematics Class is Interrupted by a Pachyderm

The day began with enough of a semblance of normalcy. I dragged myself out of bed way too early, avoided my stepmother, and walked three miles through a veritable blizzard in downtown Boston to get to school. I struggled to make it through my first four classes, ignoring the jibes and taunts thrown my way, composed myself long enough to eat the cafeteria's excuse for a lunch, and straggled into my math class, ready for a power nap.

But Fate did not agree. As I put my head down and closed my eyes, my teacher, Mr. Sherman, walked in. He was a squat man with a limping gait who hardly knew more about math than I did. I told him that once, which was probably a mistake.

"Lysander!" he barked, "Get your head up off your desk!"

I winced as I always did when he used my full name. He was the _only_ person who called me that. Everyone else just called me Sander. Nonetheless, I picked up my head.

"Now that your classmate is gracing us with his attention," Sherman went on, "I am going to teach you about-"

As he spoke, the walls of the building shook. The class was on the first floor, and I looked up warily, uneasy about the tons of cement and steel that were directly over my head. Sherman looked up as well, then turned his head and narrowed his eyes at me. I shrugged at him. The man couldn't blame me for everything.

"As I was saying," Sherman continued, his beady eyes still fixed on me, "today's lesson focuses on imaginary numbers."

But no one was paying attention anymore. They were whispering frantically, questioning what the disturbance had been and if it was going to prove a problem. Sherman noticed in about two seconds, and raised a hand for silence.

"Class." He said gruffly, "Whatever that mild tremble may have been-"

"Nothing about that was _mild_." A girl said loudly.

Sherman ignored her and went on; "-I assure you it was nothing to be worried about."

No sooner had he finished then the back wall of the classroom collapsed.

I leaped to my feet, turning as I did to face the back. Where the wall had been there was merely a crumbled ruin, and astride the mess stood a massive boar, squealing in delight. The monster's hide was a deep brown of sharply spiked fur, and his tusks gleamed a shining white, razor-edged and easily capable of gutting a man.

Chaos ruled. Kids ran around screaming, pushing each other and tripping over desks. Only Sherman stood calmly, looking at the boar. Then he turned to me, a cruel smile playing across his mouth. He pointed at me, and the boar charged, swinging its head and tusks side to side as if in a sawing motion.

As the massive creature hurtled towards me, I froze. Time seemed to slow, but I couldn't move. As the animal prepared to slice me into pieces, only one thing was in my mind.

"_Aera! Eja Alale!"_ I yelled. I don't know where the words came from. They sprung to my mind, and devoid of other options, I was reduced to yelling at pachyderms. Yet as I shouted the words, something happened. The temperature rose to a blistering heat, and I swear that the world took on a red tint. The boar squealed again, but it was a squeal of desperate fear and panic this time. It stumbled, halting its charge less than a yard from my chest, and then turned. Giving me a terrified look, the boar ran back through the wall, and out into the streets of Boston.

I turned again to face Sherman. The other kids had by this time fled scrambling from the room, or out through the wall. But not Sherman. He just looked at me, a murderous glint in his eyes, and a vicious look on his face.

"You are not as weak as I expected, son of Alale. But you are not my equal, and your mother will yet bend knee to us."

As he spoke, his form shimmered and changed, his face grew gaunt, his eyes turned blood red, and became consumed with the light of vengeance. His stature increased, but his frame was spare and had nothing of fat or muscle. His hair seemed to die, and it turned an ashy gray. I looked at him and was consumed with rage, with a murderous desire to track down everyone who had ever wronged me and make them suffer.

Sherman laughed. "You see, son of Alale, you cannot contend with me. Greek will again massacre Roman, and Roman again slaughter Greek. There is nothing you can do. Submit, and you will not be harmed."

I opened my mouth to shout at him again, but no words came. Sherman laughed. "You are mine, child of the War-Cry!" As he spoke, he lunged forward, thin fingers grasping for my neck.

I tumbled backwards over a desk, and came up on top of Sherman. His hands were still around my neck, but I hit him, fist smashing into bone. There was no apparent effect. Sherman smiled, and with inhuman strength, rolled to the side so that he had the upper hand. Lights danced in front of my eyes. _I am going to die_. I thought. The thought was oddly calming. There was nothing to fear from Death. However, I guess I was destined to survive the assault of my math teacher, because just then an arrow whistled through the air, lodging itself in Sherman's shoulder.

He hissed in pain, and released me, standing up to face my saviors. Apparently the sight didn't please him, because he roared in rage. "Half-bloods!" He growled. "You cannot prevail!"

"Die, Alastor!" a voice shouted, deep and resonating with power. Another arrow flew, this time striking Sherman's chest. He roared in fury and pain, standing up to his full, and suddenly considerable height. "You have not won, fools. Friends will become foes, and the blood of the gods will stain the earth red once more!"

Sherman snarled one more time, and then his form shimmered again, but this time he disappeared. A third arrow flew through the space where just a moment before his head had been. I heaved a wheezing breath when he disappeared, and then slumped backwards, submitting to unconsciousness.

** Let me know what you think of my little tale, and what you think happened of significance in 216 BC!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second chapter in the story for those interested. Please review! If you review then whatever suggestions or ideas that you have an be incorporated into later chapters, but I cant do that if you all don't tell me what you think! So please review! And I guess a disclaimer is necessary for this chapter, as characters other than my own are introduced. Therefore; DISCLAIMER: I do not own PJO. All rights to Rick Riordan.**

Chapter 2: In Which I find out who my Mother is

I couldn't have been out more than a couple of hours, and I awoke to the sound of an argument. There were two people who seemed to be fighting about something. One of them sounded young, around my age or so, while the other was obviously older. I couldn't tell how much older, but he wasn't a teenager. I kept my eyes closed, willing myself to ignore them and go back to sleep. No such luck.

"I'm telling you," the younger one was saying, "Erik's disappearance was the final straw. Titus isn't going to sit back and wait anymore; as far as he's concerned, we've proven our treachery. And as far as _I'm _concerned, throwing you out of Camp Jupiter was concrete evidence that he's making preparations that he doesn't want us to know about."

"I was not _thrown_ out of the camp, Croesus." the older man said mildly. "Titus asked me to return to Camp Half-Blood to ensure that the Roman representation was still loyal and intact, and to search for Erik. While I admit that continuously delaying my return is a bit suspicious, I feel we can rest assured that the gods will not allow another conflict between their children. Mars himself would gladly dispose of Titus if his continued possession of power meant war."

"I really think that, just so we're not caught off guard, we should-"

"Enough." the older voice said firmly. "I will sanction no war preparations in this camp, at least until Chiron returns."

"But-"

"Croesus, stop." This was a woman's voice entering the discussion. She sounded like she was young, but had seen far too much of the world already. "Besides," she continued, "he's awake."

It took me a moment to process that she was talking about me, but when I finally did, I opened my eyes and smiled rather sheepishly at the group. A girl of about sixteen sat in a chair next to the bed I was lying in. Dark hair rippled down her shoulders and back, and her skin was a pale white. Bright blue eyes looked out from under dark eyebrows. Behind her stood a boy, who really couldn't have been any older than she was. It was difficult to tell though, because he was huge. Broad-shouldered with muscled arms and standing at least six and a half feet tall, he had a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped across his back, and a massive two-handed bronze sword leaned against the wall next to him. His skin was a light tan, and he had that Eastern European or Middle-Eastern look that suggested he might come from Asia Minor or something. He absolutely dwarfed the girl, and the older man who sat in a chair next to her, looking at me intently with brilliant green eyes.

I focused my attention on this man. He was the older figure who had been speaking, and despite the size advantage that the younger man had, it was clear where the authority lay. The guy radiated power and confidence, his gaze steady and intense. His eyes stared at me from under ruffled black hair flecked with gray and silver. He was spinning a ballpoint pen in his hands as he stared at me, and when he spoke I was reminded of the crashing of waves and the sound of the ocean.

"Are you feeling all right, boy?" he said, concern flashing through his eyes as he looked me over. "You've had quite an experience."

"I'm fine." I said calmly, "Can I get out of bed?"

The man smiled. "You don't like to be tied down, do you? Reminds me of myself when I was your age. My name is Percy. I am a son of Poseidon."

"Call me Sander." I said, speaking the whole group. "Wait-you said Poseidon? Like the Greek god of the Sea?"

Percy nodded sadly. "I've found over the years that there is no way to ease someone into this, no way to break it gently to them." he said musingly, "So I am just going to say it outright. The gods of ancient Greece and Rome are real, and very much a part of our world today. One of them is likely your parent. For instance, my father is Poseidon, and Croesus here," At this he gestured to the gigantic teenager behind him, "is a son of Apollo."

I just looked at him for a moment, and shrugged. "Okay then." I said.

Percy gave me an odd look. "You're taking this very calmly." he noticed.

I shrugged again. "The reality of what you just said will probably set in and confuse or scare me in a while, but right now the last thing I can remember is being throttled by my math teacher who had just before that grown taller and turned into some form of demon or something. So I figure anything is really possible right now."

Percy laughed at that, a rich sound that filled the air, and even the stoic son of Apollo cracked a half smile. The girl, however, didn't. She leaned forward in her chair and stared right at me, her eyes questioning.

"What did you shout at the boar?" she asked. The question brought an end to the laughter as Percy became suddenly intensely interested again. "What's this?" he said, "You encountered a boar in downtown Boston?"

"The Calydonian Boar." the girl said, "Right before the teacher attacked him. He scared it away by yelling something. What did you say to it?"

I shrugged, straining to remember. "_Aera_, or something," I said, and then the whole sequence came back to me, "Yeah that was it. _Aera, eja Alale._"

The girl gasped, and Percy's face darkened. Only the boy called Croesus and I were left in the dark.

"What?" Croesus asked, "What does it mean?" He looked at me but I just shrugged and waited for one of the other two to clarify.

"It was the war-cry of the Greek armies throughout history, intended to drive fear and panic into the enemy's ranks, and inspire courage and bravery among their own troops." Percy said, with reverence and borderline admiration.

"So...why is it important?" I asked, still not getting it.

"It's _important_," the girl said as if I was slow, "Because only children of the goddess Alale, or the goddess herself, can instill true fear and panic by using the cry, causing all but the staunchest people and creatures to flee in terror. If I, or Percy, or Croesus, had said those words to the boar, it would've kept coming and skewered us. Which, since you drove the creature away with the words, means that you are a son of Alale."

Something of confusion must have still shown on my face, because Percy stood up. "Let me give you a tour of the camp," he said, "and I'll explain as we go."

**Review! I want to know what you think of this so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The next chapter. Please review. The lack of reviews is kind of depressing. Even if you dont, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: A society in which such disclaimers are necessary is saddening.**

Chapter 3: In Which I Discover that a Large Part of My Family Likely Wants me Dead.

Percy walked quickly for an older guy. He was up from his chair and almost out the door before I even got out of bed. I managed to catch up by the time he was outside in the hallway though. He lead me up a set of stairs and out through a pair of doors onto a roofed porch, like the kind you always picture senior citizens sitting on while they play Bingo or do whatever elderly people do.

"You were out for three hours." he said as he walked onto the porch. "We'll have about an hour and a half or so for the tour, and then it will be time for dinner."

I nodded and followed him off the porch, and down into what I guessed was the main part of the camp. There was a large open-air pavilion lined with columns and other Greek architecture, and off in the distance I caught a glimpse of a lake and some woods. Percy, however, was heading towards a cluster of cabins set down away from the dining area.

"How old are you, Sander?" he asked as we walked, turning to face me.

"Fifteen." I said, and then hit him with a few questions of my own. "Who is Titus? What is Camp Jupiter?" I asked in a rush, desperate for some answers.

Percy gave a small smile, and shook his head sadly. "Fifteen? And you've made it you're whole life without an incident like what just occurred? You're lucky. I guess we let you hear too much about our camps troubles." he added, chuckling. "But curiosity is not necessarily a bad thing. This camp here," he said, gesturing with a hand to the whole valley around us, "is a training camp for children of the Greek gods. Demigods, we call ourselves, or half-bloods. In the west, just before you reach San Francisco, there is a camp for the children of the Roman gods. The Greek and Roman gods are really the same beings, but with different aspects of their personalities; one Greek, one Roman. Children of the gods in their Greek aspect come here, those of their Roman aspect go to this other camp. This is Camp Jupiter."

He paused to make sure I understood. I nodded, willing him to go on and answer my other question. Percy sighed, and did so.

"Titus is the praetor of the legion quartered at Camp Jupiter. The _Legio XII Fulminata_. Rather unfortunately, the only remaining praetor. We lost contact with the other one, a son of Mercury named Erik, during one of his trips here, to Camp Half-Blood. Titus claimed the Greeks were holding him against his will, or had killed him. I tried to convince him otherwise, and as a result I was asked to return here in person and investigate. Titus told me to stay for a week, and then come back. That was six months ago, and he continues to delay my return. And now that you've shown up, I'm beginning to think Croesus may be right. War may be inevitable."

"Whoa." I said, "Hold up a second. What do I have to do with any of this?"

Percy took a deep breath and then looked straight at me, his green eyes boring into my brown ones.

"Children of Alale are very rare, Sander. I've never met one before you, and Chiron tells me that in three thousand years of training heroes, he's known exactly two. Alale was only a Greek goddess, that is, she didn't take on a Roman aspect like the other gods did. But the dangerous thing about her children is that they are far more powerful than kids of minor gods and goddesses usually are. Almost as powerful as your average child of Ares. Your mother is a companion of Ares, the god of war. She rides with him into battle and fights along side him. She is, essentially, a war goddess. Chiron knows far more about this than I do, but from what he's told me, every time a child of Alale has appeared, a war between Greek and Roman demigods has followed shortly thereafter."

It took a good twenty second for me to understand exactly what Percy was saying, and when it did, it was shocking.

"You're saying I'm going to start a war." I said quietly, still mentally reeling from the prospect. But Percy shook his head.

"That's not what I'm saying." he said calmly. "I'm saying that your arrival at this camp signals that a war could very well be coming. The events that may have led to it have already happened. You could die tomorrow and it could still happen. Or you could live to be one hundred and never see a war between the camps. Fate is not written in stone, Sander. At least not usually. But take care, because the side with whom the child of Alale fights has always been the victor. If Titus finds out about you, he'll likely devote all of his considerable resources towards having you killed."

By now we had reached the cluster of cabins. Percy started pointing out which ones were which god's or goddess's. As we passed the most elaborate of them all, a massive structure of marble and stone faced with columns, a shadow crossed Percy's face. I followed his gaze, and found that he wasn't looking at the cabin, but rather at a mound off to the side. There was no headstone, only a short sword thrust into the earth, with a round pommel sticking up into the air, but it was clearly a grave.

Percy touched his hand to his forehead in a reverent salute, "_Recquiesce in pace, mei amicus_." he murmured softly. I wanted to ask who was buried there, but the look on Percy's face told me that to do so now would be inappropriate.

He finished the tour without speaking much, only pointing out various facilities of the camp like the armory, the stables, and a huge climbing wall the spewed fire and lava. His attitude, however, was enough to tell me that he was still dwelling on the prospect of war with the Roman camp. Then I realized that Percy had clearly spent time at the other camp. He probably had friends there, was probably close to most of the campers. Being a son of a Greek god, he would feel obligated to fight with Camp Half-Blood. But then he would be fighting and killing most of his friends. It was no wonder the guy looked depressed.

Just then a man ran up. Well, not really a man, since he had furry goat legs from the waist down, and curly brown hair from which projected a pair of curling horns. It was probably the weirdest thing I had seen since showing up.

"Perrcy!" he bleated, "Chiron's back. He wants to talk to you."

Percy forced a smile. "Thanks Grover." he said. "I'll be right up."

Then he turned to me. "You'd better come too." he said. "I know Chiron's going to want to meet you, and we'll have to figure out where you can sleep."

**Hope you liked it, please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks to Rosiegirl52 for the review, I'll see what I can work in relating to your idea. To all who may read, enjoy the fourth chapter, and please review.**

Chapter 4: In Which I am Assigned a Quest

We walked quickly back up to the house, Grover and Percy quietly holding a conversation while I trailed a ways behind them. My one attempt at joining the conversation was met with stony silence, which was enough of a hint for me.

When we got up to the house, I saw Croesus standing on the porch, the apparently ever-present bow and arrows slung across his back, this time joined by his broadsword. No wonder the guy was so big if he lugged all that weaponry around on his back all the time.

Croesus nodded to the questioning look on Percy's face, but his look was overcast by shadow, and his mouth was set in grim lines. Percy tried to step past him and enter the house, but Croesus shook his head. "Chiron'll be out in a moment. He wanted to meet out here."

Percy shrugged as if adolescents told him what to do all the time, and then sat down next to a small card table. He motioned for me to do the same, and then looked to Grover. He, however, shook his head and mumbled something about needing to talk to something called the 'Council of Cloven Elders.' Percy nodded for Grover to go, and I slid into a chair next to Percy.

About a minute later, the door opened. I had to quickly stifle a shout of surprise, because what walked out the door was like nothing I had seen so far. From the waist down a white stallion, from the waste up an aging man with thinning silver hair and beard. I presumed to think that this was Chiron. He walked over to the table and nodded to Percy, then beckoned to Croesus, who also came over and sat down.

Percy leaned forward, and let out a stream of questions. "What did the gods say?" he asked hurriedly, "Why did they call you back to Olympus? Any news of Erik, or the going-ons of Camp Jupiter?"

Chiron held up a hand for silence, and the tide of questions ceased. He gave us the short version.

"The gods are worried about the growing tensions between their children." he began, his voice deep and powerful. "Both Lupa and myself were called to Olympus to speculate on nonviolent means of resolution."

I looked at Croesus and mouthed '_Who is Lupa?' _

'_Roman hero-trainer.' _he mouthed back.

I nodded, and returned my attention to Chiron. "However," he went on, "I fear that with so few demigods left, in both camps, who remember the Giant War and the necessity of cooperation between the camps, this will not be easy to solve. Especially now that Jason is no longer with us, and you, Percy, are the only link between camps."

Percy's face saddened at this, and he nodded warily. "A son of the War-Cry has appeared as well." he said, nodding to me.

Chiron looked up sharply at that, his eyes clouding for a moment in what looked like desperate fear. He looked at me, his gaze intense and powerful. "Then all may already be lost..." he said.

I fidgeted nervously. I didn't like the idea that everybody here assumed that my arrival meant war. Percy noticed, and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "All is not lost, Chiron." he said firmly. "If we can find Erik and return him safely to Camp Jupiter, or at least prove that his disappearance had nothing to do with us, then Titus will be forced to accept that the Greeks are not traitors, and it may buy us enough time to find a more permanent resolution to this problem."

Chiron turned his gaze to Percy now, who held it steadily. At last Chiron gave a sigh. "Very well." he said. "Then a quest is in order." he turned back to me. "I know you just got here, child, but you must be one of the members. I do not pretend to like what your presence here may mean for the camps, but since you are here, then you must be a part of the peace offering, so that Titus and the Romans know that you do not herald a war. But what of the other members?"

"I'll go." Croesus said at once. I shot him a grateful look. Having someone like that watch my back could not be a bad thing.

"I will too." Percy added.

"No." Chiron said quickly. "This is not your fight, my friend, and I will need you here. We must prepare for the possibility of war, and try and find a way to get Titus to let you back into Camp Jupiter. Besides," he added jokingly, "Are you not getting a little old for quests?"

"They could use my experience." Percy countered, "And my influence would come in handy should they encounter any Romans, Hunters, or Amazons."

"No, old friend." Chiron said firmly. "You will stay here."

"Then who else will accompany these two?" Percy asked.

"I will." said a female voice. A girl stepped out of the doorway into the house, the same girl who had been with Croesus and Percy when I awoke.

"Lydia..." Croesus said warningly. She shot him an angry and defiant look.

"I'm going Croesus. You think you're the only one who deserves revenge? You think you're the only one whose life was destroyed by the daemons?"

Croesus winced, and Percy looked pointedly in the other direction. Chiron, on the other hand, nodded acquiescence. "Lydia will accompany you both." he said. "The oracle is not here, so you will have to manage without a prophecy, but I will give you al the deatails of Erik's last known location over dinner. However, for now, Croesus, Percy, take..." he trailed off, apparently realizing I had never given him my name.

"Sander." I said promptly, gesturing for Chiron to continue.

He nodded. "Take Sander down to the arena and see what he can do. Its rare that we have to send a demigod on a quest just after they arrive, but in this case we have no choice. You will have no opportunity for training, and for that I am sorry. Dinner is in an hour, try and finish by then."

With that, he turned around and trotted back into the house, beckoning for Lydia to follow him. Percy stood up slowly and stretched his arms over his head. "Lets see what you can do my friend." he said to me.

**Hope you liked it, please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to FLAMELASHER for the review, you made some good points. Here's chapter 5, but as a note its unlikely I will ever post two chapters in one day again. I'll do my best though. Enjoy, and review**

Chapter 5: In Which I Duel a Middle-Aged Man

"Pick a weapon." Percy said as we walked into the arena, gesturing towards a table laid out with a wide assortment of killing tools. "Croesus'll see what you can do, and if he doesn't kill you, then you can try my blade." he finished smiling.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and strode over to the table. There were spears, swords, knives, even a pump-action shotgun and a couple of hand-held pistols. I selected a sturdy spear, a eight-foot long stick of hardened ash topped with a nine-inch razor-sharp spearhead of solid bronze. For a backup, I slipped a long knife into my belt. Percy raised a questioning eyebrow as I walked back over. "An unusual choice." he said, but didn't press the matter.

Croesus slid his two-handed sword out of the sheath on his back, and tossed his bow and arrows off to the side. "I'll try not to kill you." He said, and then advanced. My vision seemed to sharpen. I could see from the look in the other boy's eyes which way he was going to go, I could sense from the clench and the tightening of his arms when he was going to strike. The huge sword came down at me in a broad overhand arc, and I knew instinctively that there was no way that I could block it, there was too much power behind the strike.

Instead, I stepped to the side, letting the sword point dig into the sand beneath my feet. Croesus stumbled forward, having obviously expected resistance. I spun the spear around so that I would be striking with the butt of the shaft, and hit him sharply in the back of the left knee. "_Aera!" _I yelled as the blow hit home. Croesus staggered, and then collapsed onto his knees, terror and panic clouding his eyes as the sword slipped out of his grasp and left him kneeling defenseless before me.

We remained like that for a moment, and then Percy started clapping. Croesus's gaze cleared, and he seemed confused to find himself disarmed and kneeling. "What...What just happened?" he asked.

Percy started laughing. "The newbie disarmed you, my friend. Took out your stance with a blow to the knees, and then terrified you into dropping your sword with his war-cry. All in the space of about five seconds I might add. You have a large amount of natural talent." he said, directing the last part towards me. "Let's see if it's enough to beat my experience."

Percy walked over and helped Croesus up, directing him to stand well outside the range of our weapons. Then he faced me and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the same one he had been spinning when I first met him. He uncapped it, and I gasped in surprise as the pen grew into a three foot long bronze sword.

"I think its rather cool too." he said as the blade swung towards my head.

At the last second I realized what was happening and ducked, lashing out with my spear from a crouch. It was a last-second blow though, and Percy easily dodged it. I stood up, and jabbed forward, but he stepped aside and, using the momentum of my thrust, seized the weapon just behind the head and pulled it right out of my grasp. Then his sword was swinging at me again, this time in a backhand stroke, and the flat of the blade made contact with my thigh in a loud slapping sound.

Despite the fact that I figured a backhand slash was less powerful than a forehand, the blow still hurt like hell, and my leg gave out under the pressure, so I collapsed to the sand. But before Percy could strike again, I rolled to the side, stood up, and drawing my knife from my belt, rejoined combat. I slashed forward, but Percy blocked easily with the flat of his blade. I struck again in a thrust, but he seemed to be able to anticipate my moves. "_Aer-_" I began, but had to shut up as I was frantically forced to block strike after strike from Percy's sword.

"Don't thrust quite so much," Percy said, as he deflected a thrust, the momentum of which almost sent me sprawling forward. "It makes your attack predictable, and having a good idea of how you're going to attack allows me the chance to plan my defense before you even strike. Never give your enemy that chance. Not to mention that knives are typically made for slashing."

By this time I had gotten the sense that I was just being toyed with, an idea that was cemented when Percy slid his sword down my knife blade, flipped the tip of his weapon under the hilt of my knife, and pulled it right out of my hands. Before I could move, his sword was at my throat.

"We're done for now." he said, making sure I understood. I nodded, and he took his sword away. "What you need is a _xiphos_." he added musingly. Seeing my confused look, he elaborated. "It was the short sword used by the fifth and sixth century B.C. Greek armies in conjunction with a spear and shield. Very good for both thrusting and slashing, but especially thrusting. It's more suited to your fighting style than what we have here. I'll talk to the kids of Hephaestus about having one ready for your departure tomorrow. I'll see if I can get you a shield made too. For now, take the spear, but leave the knife."

I nodded, and the two of us rejoined Croesus. "You know," Percy said as we walked out of the arena, "I'm surprised you haven't asked us about the teacher who attacked you, Sander."

I shrugged. "I guess I hadn't really thought about it. I'm guessing he wasn't a teacher though?"

Percy laughed. "No, he wasn't. Croesus and Lydia told me about him, and from what they said, it was Alastor, the daemon spirit of revenge. You're lucky to have survived."

"Great." I said, "now I have demons in my life too."

"Not a demon." Croesus said. "A daemon. Die-mon. But demon wouldn't be a far off description for some of them."

"Oh." I said. "Okay. But I thought there was already a goddess of revenge, Nemesis or something."

Both of the other men shook their heads. "Nemesis is technically the goddess of revenge," Percy said, "But she really represents balance, the perfect equilibrium of good and bad in a person, and in their life. Those with too much good, she tears down and adds bad to. Those with too much horror in their life, she helps them out and makes it a little better.

"Alastor, on the other hand, represents blind hatred and desire for vengeance. He is the spirit that hounds people and creates blood feuds and the like. Nasty piece of work, he is. He represents the kind of revenge that has created violence and strife between both demigod camps over the years, revenge three thousand years later for the sacking of Troy, a refugee of which founded Rome. That everlasting desire for revenge despite having already fulfilled the just balance, that is Alastor."

Just then a horn of some sort blew. "Let's go." Percy said. "It's dinner time."

**Hope you liked it, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's the sixth chapter, which is the longest I have written for this story so far. I just didn't feel like it should be split into two shorter chapters. Please bear with me on it though, I rather like this chapter. So goes, read, enjoy, and please review.**

Chapter 6: In Which Our car is Overturned by an Angry Bull

Dinner flew by. Wispy spirits and beings that Croesus informed me were called dryads waited on the campers, delivering a large variety of healthy and lean meal choices. Croesus pulled me to my feet before I could dig in, and directed me to a fiery brazier into which kids were offering sacrifices to a god of their choice.

"Apollo," Croesus said solemnly, pushing a prime slice of steak into the brazier. "Grant me my revenge."

I gave him a questioning look as he passed, but he shook me off, returned to his seat, and began wolfing down his dinner.

"Alale." I whispered, scraping a fresh slice of bread and a clump of grapes into the fire. "Help me stop a war."

I left the fire and walked back over to the main dining area, sliding into a seat next to Croesus. He had explained earlier that campers were usually required to sit at a table with the other members of their cabin, but seeing as I was the first child of Alale in several hundred years, there was no cabin for my mother at camp. He went on to say that although undetermined campers or campers whose godly parent had no cabin typically sat with the Hermes cabin, since it was only for one meal and we needed to plan our quest strategy, Chiron likely wouldn't mind if I ate with Apollo's kids.

Towards the end of the meal, Chiron left the head table where he had been eating alongside Percy and some of the goat-men I had learned were called satyrs, and came over to where Croesus and I were sitting. As he did so, Lydia got up from her cabin's table, Demeter's, I thought Croesus had said, and came over as well.

"Illinois." Chiron said as he trotted over. "Both Lupa and Percy contend that the place they lost contact with Erik was in Illinois. In the area of a small town called Fairfield."

"That's it?" Croesus and I asked at the same time. "They don't know anything else?" he added.

Chiron shook his head. "They don't, but Percy knows of someone who may. On his way east, Erik and his companions stopped in St. Louis, Missouri, where they picked up supplies from a veteran of the twelfth legion. His name is Marcus Varro, and he accompanied the group of demigods east as far as the outskirts of Fairfield before returning to his home in Missouri. That was the last time anyone spoke to or heard from Erik. Find Varro in St. Louis, and see what he knows. After him, the trail is cold. Whoever kidnapped or killed Erik and his friends has a six-month head start on you three, so you need to work fast. We booked a 6:00 A.M. flight from New York City to St. Louis for you tomorrow morning. Croesus, you can take a camp van and drive to the city. After that, you're on your own. Go get some rest."

Almost before he was done speaking, Chiron turned and trotted back to the head table, where he leaned in and began a conversation with Percy, glancing nervously in our direction every so often.

Croesus stood up. "Let's get some sleep Sander." he said. "It's a really early start, and rather than squeeze you into the Hermes cabin and make more work for me coming to find you tomorrow, you're sleeping in my cabin. There's and empty bunk next to mine. Let's go."

Croesus was damn right about one thing. It was a _very_ early start. We got up and packed long before the sun rose, and were on top of Half-Blood Hill and heading out while it was still dark. Percy was there to see us off, and he had some gifts for me.

"Here, Sander." he said, handing me a short, leaf-bladed bronze sword in a leather sheath. "It's a _xiphos_." he explained. "You'll do well with it. And take this." with that he pulled a steel and bronze bracelet out of his pocket. "I had the Hephaestus kids make both of these yesterday after dinner. They'll serve you well."

"Thanks." I said, eyeing the bracelet with a confused look. "What does the armband do?"

Percy laughed, and showed me that it was engraved with crossed spears. "Tap the engraving," he said, "And you will have your shield." I thanked him, and we set off.

After a long and uneventful drive across Long Island and into New York City, the sun had just started peeking its head above the horizon as we boarded our plane.

"Hey Croesus," I asked as we took our seats, three in one row with Lydia at the window, "Percy said I was only unconscious for two hours or so. How did I get from Boston to Long Island so fast? No way we drove."

Croesus laughed. "Oh we drove." he said, smiling, "The vehicle was just a flying chariot." Lydia chuckled at that, but then leaned against the window and was asleep in seconds. Another question struck me.

"What's going on between you too?" I asked Croesus, "Are you guys, you know...ah, together?"

Croesus gave a short bark of laughter at that, but his eyes were grim and set. "No, no we're not." he said. "Our mortal parents are twins, immigrants from Trukey. Lydia just got lucky and inherited her mother's cmplexion. In terms of blood, our relationship is complicated. My mother was a singer, and an amateur poet. Naturally she attracted Apollo. Lydia's father was an agricultural engineer. Designed irrigation systems and such. So Demeter fell for him. We're cousins on the mortal side as well as the godly. The Olympians took quite an interest in us when we were young. Two half-bloods of the same mortal family, but different godly parents. Just _fascinating_." he finished bitterly.

"Our parents both knew we were half god, so they kept us together a lot, so we could help and protect each other. Fatal mistake. My father warned them, but they wouldn't listen. With two powerful demigods in one house, monsters couldn't resist. Then one day it wasn't a monster that attacked, but a daemon. The daemons have always been rather uncontrollable, although they serve the gods in name. This particular daemon more than any other. I was five, Lydia was four. There was nothing we could do. Both our parents died trying to protect us. Help managed to arrive in the form of Percy and one of his friends, a son of Hades. But it was too late for my father, and Lydia's mother. They were gone. That was eleven years ago. I've been at camp ever since, training, waiting for when I can have my revenge."

"Who was it?" I asked, "Who was the daemon?"

"I think you know, Sander." Croesus said warily. "No offense, but Lydia and I didn't expect to find you yesterday in that classroom. We weren't sure why he was there, but we certainly didn't think it was because of some half-blood child of a minor goddess. We weren't there for you, Sander. We were tracking him, trying to avenge the deaths of our parents."

The plane landed around 8:00 A.M. local time, after a flight of about three or so hours. We got off the plane in St. Louis, and Croesus used the charm inherent in being almost seven feet tall, as well as a large amount of cash, to convince a shady rental car agency to lend a vehicle to a sixteen-year-old kid and his two friends.

Before we left, Lydia checked in a phone book and found Varro's address. He didn't actually live in the city at all, but in a sparsely populated suburb near the Rockwoods Reservation. We were nearly there, driving along a country lane when there was a massive impact on the driver's side of the car. Croesus slumped unconscious, a lump already forming on his head. I hurriedly tried to get out of the car, but before I could there was another impact, this time even greater. The force was enough to flip the car off the road, and it landed in a ditch on its hood.

"Oh my gods...holy crap." Lydia said as she forced her way out of the vehicle. Croesus was still out cold, and my vision was swimming. I managed to get out though, and saw Lydia struggling to free Croesus from the wreck. There was a snarling, and I turned.

"Uhh...Lydia?" I said, not turning around. "You better check this out."

She straightened slowly, and gazed where I was looking. "Oh gods." she said.

It was a massive bull, razor sharp horns protruding from its head, his haunches corded with muscle and powerful enough to, well, to flip over a good-sized automobile. It snarled again, and Lydia paled.

"Get Croesus out of the car." I said, "I'll hold him off."

Lydia gulped. "Sander that's Taurus."

"What? Like the astrology sign?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the creature.

"Taurus." she said. "It was the name some Greks and Romans gave to the massive and insanely angry bull that ravaged Crete, and the King's daughter, during Minos's reign. Most people just call him the Cretan Bull. Sander...that thing is the father of the Minotaur."

I shrugged. "He doesn't look so tough. _Aera!" _I shouted. Nothing happened. "_Aera!_" I yelled, "_Eja Alale!_" Taurus just pawed the ground furiously and bucked his horns.

"I told you!" Lydia said, "He's the insanely angry bull that ravaged Crete! You think this thing is calm enough to feel _fear_? You can't scare him, but you have to kill him. Just hold him off long enough for me to revive Croesus. He can handle it."

Right now letting Croesus handle this thing sounded like the best idea in the world. Unfortunately, the giant son of Apollo was unconscious. Praying to my mother that the thing didn't kill me, I tapped the engraving on my wristband. A huge shield spiraled out, nearly three and a half feet in diameter. Plain, but sturdy and virtually indestructible. I reached into the ruined car and pulled out my spear. "Let's have a go, Taurus." I said.

The bull obliged. He charged, horns poised and fury itself leaking from him. I sidestepped at the last second, and thrust my spear towards him. The head bit deep into his thigh, but it only enraged the creature. He turned right as he passed me, pulling the weapon out of my hand, and bucked his head. The beast's head clipped my shield with enough force to send me falling flat on my butt. The enraged Taurus turned again and charged. I tried scrambled to my feet, but slipped and fell back down. I knew there was no way I could defend against this thing.

Fortunately I didn't have to. Just as the bull's horns were going to skewer me, there was a flash of bronze from above my head, and Croesus's huge two-handed broadsword appeared lodged in the bulls throat. A powerful thrust from the recently revived demigod had sent the tip straight through the creature's major arteries. It spasmed, and then dissolved into dust and powder, dead. Croesus helped me to my feet, and then picked up his sword cleaning it of dust and sheathing it. I also retrieved my spear. He handed me my _xiphos _and motioned for me and Lydia to follow him.

"I have a _really _bad headache." Croesus said, rubbing his forehead. "Now lets go find this guy Varro. He lives about a block down the road."

**Hope you liked it! It was a long chapter, but hopefully it was still good. Let me know what you think! Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello to all who may be reading. Sorry this update took so long to come about, I'm sorry to say that I realy don't think I'll have time to publish new chapters during the week. I'll try and put up two or three chapters over the weekend to make up for that though. So sorry about that. Please read and review! Criticism is especially welcome.**

Chapter 7: In Which We Get an Idea of What Happened to Erik

Varro lived in a welcoming-looking little house off a dirt road. Lydia and I walked up to the door and rang the bell, with Croesus standing behind us and trying not to look threatening. Something he was not exactly good at. My sword was sheathed and slung along my belt, and my shield was in its wrist-band form, but I was still clutching an eight-foot long spear. Lydia had two knives in her belt, and the hilt of Croesus's broadsword, along with the ends of his arrows and the tip of his bow, stuck out over his shoulder. We were, all in all, not your typical house guests.

A thin woman of medium height with long, braided black hair opened the door. Her face was starting to show signs of age, and her hair was streaked with silver in many places, but there was a fire and determination in her dark brown eyes that told me she could still be dangerous.

"Ah-hello." I said awkwardly, holding out my hand for her to shake. She ignored it, staring me down. "Um, yeah. We're looking for Marcus Varro."

The woman sighed, and part of her hostility seemed to evaporate. "He's in the back." she said. "Come on in. And try not to kill any of the kids." she added, glaring at our weapons.

I glanced at Croesus, and he shrugged, so I followed the woman, careful to keep my spear away from the furniture, and the two little kids who came running into the living room, but stopped when they saw us.

Varro was out in the back yard, sitting in a lawn chair on the patio. "Bring them over, dear." he said rather distractedly, sipping from a glass.

"Take a seat," the woman, who I presumed to be Varro's wife, said. "I'll bring you three something to drink." By now she sounded almost fond of us.

I sat to Varro's left, and nearly fell backwards out of my chair. A wicked series of scars snaked down the left side of his face, like something had clawed him, or tried to rip his head off. Three lines of brilliant white-scarred flesh crawled down his face, nearly parallel, starting on his left temple and stretching down over his left eye and then across his mouth and to his throat.

I caught myself before I truly fell over, but my reaction was obvious, and Croesus winced as he sat down, shaking his head and peering at Varro to gauge his reaction.

The scarred Roman just laughed. "That was not the worst I have seen when people first lay eyes on me my Greek friend. They have fainted, fled, tripped over themselves. Everything. I learned early not to take offense, not to make an enemy of he who may prove a staunch friend."

I sat; face reddening, as Croesus spoke. "Winter doesn't ever really come to Missouri does it, Mr. Varro?" he said jokingly, gesturing to the warm weather and sunshine around us.  
>Varro chuckled, but his eyes darted back and forth, didn't meet ours, and he looked as though caught in a great dilemma.<p>

"Please, call me Marcus." he said, and Croesus nodded his acceptance.

"Marcus, then." he said. "We need your help. We're looking for-"

"Erik." Varro sighed, and then looked directly at each of us in turn. His left eye was a milky white, a stark contrast to the brilliant yellow-gold of his right one. I realized that he was blind in the left eye, as well as scarred.

"You may be interested to know," Marcus said slowly, "that the praetor Titus has issued an edict forbidding any Roman, active member of the legion or no, to assist any Greek demigod in any way. My duty to Rome requires that I withhold any assistance, and further, that I detain you and secure your transport to Camp Jupiter for questioning as to the whereabouts of the missing praetor."

The silence was oppressive. I resisted the urge to unsheathe my sword and conjure my shield. Croesus, however, leaned forward. At the surface level he looked at ease, but his eyes were hardened, and there was a tightness to his face that suggested barely controlled anger.

"Yet you are not going to attempt such a thing." he said, his voice deathly quiet and extremely dangerous.

Marcus looked him dead in the eye and held his gaze, but before the situation could devolve into a pointless staring contest, Lydia intervened.

"Please, Marcus." she said calmly, "We're trying to help both camps. If you could just...ignore the edict for an hour or so, we promise to be out of here by then."

It worked. Varro turned his gaze from Croesus to Lydia, and his face softened. "You remind me of my sister." he said softly, a tear rolling down his cheek. "You have the same eyes. Such brilliant blue eyes." By now the man looked to be on verge of sobbing. But he cleared his throat and regained his composure.

"I am no longer a man of Rome, my friends. Everything I have, my wife, my house, my kids, is because of the Greeks. I got _this_" he said pointing to his scar, "in a battle for Camp Jupiter. I would've been a dead man, but your friend Percy Jackson saved my life. When the Giant War was over and I was discharged from the legion, he set me up here. Found me a house, taught me how to lay low. No Roman did any of that for me. I will give you what help I can."

I tried to stifle my sigh of relief, but I'm not sure it worked to well. Croesus sat back in his chair, looking relaxed, but I could tell by the clenching of his arms that he was all too ready to draw that sword of his. Lydia glared at Croesus as Varro went on;

"Erik and his party left here early in the morning. I provided them with supplies, and secured an old car for them. They were heading east, towards New York. I went with them in my car as far as Fairfield, Illinois."

He paused as his wife came in with a tray of lemonades. She set one in front of each of us, and we thanked her before he disappeared back into the house.

Marcus waited until she was back inside before continuing. "We got to the outskirts of the city around three in the afternoon," he said, "and I offered to book a motel in the town for them. Erik declined, saying they were going to sleep in the ruins of old Fort Hadrian about a mile east of the city. Try as I might, I couldn't dissuade him."

"What's so bad about the fort?" I asked, curious. "What could be there that should keep away a group of demigods?"

Varro actually shuddered at the thought. "The Algea." he whispered. "The Algea made the fort their home years ago."

Lydia gasped, and Croesus's face paled. I, however, was still confused.

"Sorry, but who are the Algea?" I asked, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.

Lydia stepped in. "Spirits of pain and suffering. Three siblings, Achos, Ania, and Lupe. Not the nicest immortal beings. Infamous for killing demigods in the old days, but I thought they hadn't been seen in America since the Second World War"

Marcus shook his head. "Fort Hadrian used to be a pride of Camp Jupiter. Based near the center of the continental USA, it was a place where demigods could find shelter and supplies on quests. Mortals couldn't find it, and the power of Rome kept most monsters away. Until the Algea. No one knows exactly what happened, but one day a party of ten demigods stopped at the fort. They found the garrison dead and mangled, and left in a hurry to report to Camp. Only one made it out, and he was practically insane. What I just said was all that he managed to convey before he died."

"And Erik decided to sleep overnight there, in full knowledge of this?" Croesus asked incredulously.

Marcus nodded. "He thought that they might have moved on. The fort fell more than thirty years before the Giant War, more than sixty from this year, and he reasoned that with no demigods, and no immortals of any sort, the Algea would be gone. I offered to stay with them, but Erik insisted I return to my family. That was six months ago, and the last time I, or anyone else, ever saw him."

Lydia shivered and I struggled not to fidget or look uneasy at all. Only Croesus seemed calm. He reclined back in his chair, completely at ease. "Then we need to check out this Fort Hadrian." he said.

**Hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you think.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's the next chapter for all who may be reading. Thanks to Ink-Cola-Koala for the review! Everyone else who may be reading and not reviewing, please do review. Even a few words is more than welcome. Whatever you can manage. Anyways, enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 8: In Which We Witness the Work of the Algea

It took us a long time to convince Marcus not to try and stop us. Through a combination of Lydia politely begging, Croesus rudely intimidating, and me throwing in my two cents every few seconds, we managed to convince him to drive us as far as he accompanied Erik. However, by that time the sun was setting and we allowed ourselves to be talked into staying at Varro's house overnight. Well aware that the trail was growing even colder, the three of us prepared to spend the night.

We rose with the sun the next morning, ate a fast breakfast and drove across the border into Illinois. Marcus spent the whole time trying to talk us out of it. By the time we got to the outskirts of Fairfield, Croesus's face was strained white with irritation and it looked like even Lydia was ready to cut Varro's throat. He gave us a map with the route to Fort Hadrian pencilled in, and had one last ditch effort at convincing us not to go. We thanked him through clenched teeth and left really fast.

"Gods," Lydia said as we walked through Fairfield, "If that's how he tried to dissuade Erik from staying at the fort, the guy probably did it just to spite Marcus."

Croesus and I laughed at that, but the humor died away as we left Faifield behind us and walked through what seemed like endless farmland towards the ruins of the fort. We reached it in about fifteen minutes.

The fort was a sprawling expanse of stone and rotting wood. A mass of stone about six feet high formed what I assumed was the remains of the outer wall, but there were large chunks of it missing, and other parts of it looked perilously close to collapsing entirely. Standing on the tips of my toes, I could just see over the top of the wall, enough to get a glimpse of a cluster of ruined wooden building inside, gathered around a bulky center keep at least forty feet high that was missing parts of its infrastructure and looked like it was about to come crashing down. A stream ran gurgling through a gap in the part of the wall furthest away from us, through the main courtyard of the fort and out through a small barred gate off to the left of my line of sight.

Croesus walked off to the right, peering through gaps in the wall where it was to high even for him, or over it where it was low enough. I noticed that the fort seemed to shimmer every so often, fading in and out of focus. It even, alarmingly, disappeared entirely from view once. I opened my mouth to cry out to my friends, but just then it popped back into existence.

"What the..." I said, confused once again.

"Concentrate, Sander." Lydia said, punching me on the arm. "The place is wound up tightly in the Mist, so mortals can't find it. If you're not careful, it can fool demigods too."

"What the hell is the Mist?" I demanded as the fort faded out of existence again. I concentrated on the place, knowing it was there, and it reappeared, but more defined this time.

"It's a magical force that keeps mortals from seeing into our world." Lydia said as if that made everything obvious. "Keeps them from seeing monsters for what they really are, and occasionally more powerful demigods can manipulate it to make mortals see what we want them too. Croesus isn't too bad at that."

"Hey you two!" Speaking of Croesus. "Get over here!" he called. "I found the gate."

We hurried over to where Croesus was standing. Two short, broad stone towers flanked a decrepit wooden gate that looked like it had been blasted off its hinges. Croesus stood with his sword drawn and clenched tight in both hands, but it took me a moment to realize why,

"Holy shit!" I yelled when I saw it.

A mangled body dangled in front of the gate, strung up by the neck with rope. The eyes were open and bloodshot, a dark grey that seemed to follow our movements. It was the body of a boy, his bones broken nearly beyond recognition, his chest torn and bloodied so that his ribs were visible, mangled and shattered.

I shuddered and Lydia paled. Croesus sheathed his sword and pulled out his bow. A single arrow cut the rope from which the body hung, and it came crashing to the ground. Croesus walked over and knelt next to it, his brow furrowed.

"This is the work of the Algea." he pronounced grimly, "But it's not Erik."

"H-How do you know?" Lydia stammered, her eyes fixed on the torn up dead boy.

"He doesn't match the description Percy gave me." Croesus said simply. "Now lets explore the fort a bit, shall we?"

Lydia looked like she would enjoy nothing more than saying no, but she swallowed a few times and drew herself up, calm and composed. Croesus took the lead, and Lydia and I followed him with a few longing glances back at the gateway.

The courtyard was horrifying. The whole place smelled of decay and rotting flesh. Marcus hadn't specified how large Erik's party was, but by the number of dead Romans, it must have been pretty large.

"Holy mother of Zeus." Croesus said as he looked around. A series of at least a half a dozen spears stood point first out of the ground, each one topped with a human head. The mouths were open in pain and terror, the faces bloodied.

"What kind of person could do this?" I asked, shocked and incredulous.

"Not people." Croesus said grimly. "They may be immortal, but the Algea are still monsters, Sander."

I looked around, seeing the decapitated bodies whose heads were on the spears lying torn to pieces, and one more thing.

"Croesus." I said, pointing to the one remaining wall of what was once a wooden building surrounding the center keep.

"Mother of Zeus." he repeated. Another body, this one taller than the rest, almost as tall as Croesus, was impaled against the wall, a spear going straight through his abdomen and into the wood, holding him up. The body's legs were nearly torn off, and the skin on it's arms was shredded, revealing rotten muscle tissue and decaying bone beneath it. What drew my eye, however, was the writing on the wall next to the impaled corpse.

"_Sanguis deorum terram rubrum faciet." _I read aloud. "What does it mean?"

Croesus's face was grave. "It's Latin," he said softly, "'The blood of the gods will make the earth red.'"

Just as he finished, there was a scream from behind us.

**I'll try and manage to update tomorrow so that you all don't have to wait that long with a mild cliffhanger. I'll do my best, but no promises. Please review! Hope you liked it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I am really, really sorry you had to wait a week for this update. I underestimated just how much stuff I had to get done on Sunday, and wasn't able to make it to the computer. The extra week did help me sort through what I wanted to do with the next chapter, and this is what I came up with. Enjoy, and review! If you don't enjoy it, review and tell me what about it made the chapter unenjoyable.**

Chapter 9: In Which We Find Out What _Actually_ Happened to Erik

"Lydia!" Croesus yelled, pulling his bow off his back and drawing it with one smooth motion. I slapped my wristband and saw my shield spiral out into existence, hefting my spear and spinning to turn towards the source of the scream as it did so.  
>The sight that met my eyes was a strange one. Lydia stood by the stream that ran through the fort, a knife drawn to ward of an emaciated creature who squatted warily a few feet from her, ankle deep in the water. Croesus sprinted over to his cousin and leveled his arrow so that it pointed right into the thing's face.<p>

"Back away from her." he said, strained with rage, his fingers tightening on the string. I trotted over and stood behind Croesus, my spear at the ready.  
>The creature made a sort of grunting whimper, and scampered back a few feet. It looked up at me with eyes a piercing blue and all too human. The thing was essentially skin and bones. Its face was gaunt, with pale flaky skin stretched over its cheekbones, and I could easily count every one of its ribs. Its thighs were no bigger around than my upper arms, and its own arms could have been twigs.<p>

"Gods," I cursed quietly to myself. It was just a starved boy. "Croesus, ease up." I thrust my spear into the earth and tapped my shield, sending it back into armband form. Moving slowly, I stepped around Croesus and walked up to the malnourished guy.

"What's your name, friend?" I asked softly and kindly. The boy peered up at me through his eyes, and shuddered, his sides quaking.

"No names..." he murmured, "N-not any more...only pain...and the h-heads. They follow me. Friends...f-family...torn to pieces...m-murdered. Spirits...angry. Only pain, only s-suffering." His body shook as he finished, and he collapsed to the ground, head lolling to the side and spittle dripping from his mouth.

I looked at Croesus. "Is it Erik?" I asked him. Croesus cocked his head to the side and studied the boy before shrugging.  
>"I can't tell. He's been starved beyond recognition, and tortured too if I'm any judge. I don't know for sure, Sander. It could be Erik, or just a Roman who escaped the notice of the spirits."<p>

At the name Erik, however, the boy's head shot up and his eyes opened wide. "Erik..." he said softly, "I knew him...but no! No names...nothing but anguish...the hands...they light the flesh with fire!...Water, water...but the fire still burns...it's inside you see, can't be quenched." The boy nodded knowingly. "Unquenchable. Fire inside, water can't reach." Just then his eyes clouded with fear.

"_Sanguis deorum terram rubrum faciet!_" he yelled. "Spirits...angry. Don't like the half-gods you see, they make trouble for the minor spirits and...others. Don't like the gods either, but can't challenge the gods, too powerful, yes? But they're sly, cunning bastards. They plan other ways. Consume the one with a revenge, with hate. Unquenchable. He'll do the work, yes, and they can watch the show. Unquenchable...the burning!" he wailed, "Water, water, but still it burns...no names, no titles...only pain..."

I looked over at Croesus again, who now was studying the boy with interest. "Who's they? What others? What is the one that is consumed with hate?" he demanded, his bow still drawn and the arrow still pointing.

The boy whimpered and wailed and backed up a few steps. "Questions, questions." he muttered, "But not the right ones...ask how, not who, and where not what...fire burns, water cools...but not this fire, no! This fire burns for thousands...the lightning and the sea could not stop its burn, and nor can you. Man is born to hate, and learns to love, but this one has not...no...he hates without thought, poisoned by Vengeance. The Cry will rise again...and there will be no victor this time. No victor...and then no gods...fire...burning the skin...the hands! They spread the flames of pain and suffering!"

Croesus threw down his bow and made as if to seize the boy, but I stepped in his way, and grabbed his wrists. He looked down in shock at me, holding him back.

"Let. Go. Sander." he said. "He knows more, and he needs to tell us."

I stared him down defiantly. "No. He's insane, can't you tell? Don't treat him the way whoever did this does!" I stared my friend down and remained in his way. After a long pause Croesus sighed.

"Whatever, Sander." he said tiredly. "See if he knows where Erik is."

I nodded and turned, kneeling next to the boy and gently patting him on the shoulder. "What happened to your leader, Erik?" I asked quietly.

The kid shook. It struck me that even though it was difficult to guess exactly how old he was, there was little to no chance he was any older than twelve or thirteen.

"On the road east...to the Greeks. Stayed the night...I...I..." he frowned slightly, trying to remember. "No sleep for me, no. Took a walk outside the walls. Came back...no one, only heads...heads and blood...I ran, but couldn't run fast enough. They caught me...caught me by the stream. No quick death for I, no. Toyed with me...hands spread the fire, burned me...full of pain and anguish...kept me alive...fed me enough to live...forced me to live so they could have a...a pet...spreading fire...burning...water, water, but still it burns..." he broke, sobbing, his thin shoulders heaving. "They told me...Erik had been taken...to the Grave of Numa. The others had come and taken him that night...their plans...there will be no victor..."

I shuddered myself at that. "What is the Grave of Numa?" I asked Croesus. His gaze was set but his eyes held the barest trace of dread.

"I'll tell you in a second." he said, "But believe me, it is not good." He squatted down next to me and looked the Roman boy in the eyes. "Who do you mean when you keep saying 'they'"? he asked calmly, and with surprising kindness.

The boy shuddered and opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. I, however, had a pretty good idea. "You know who he means, Croesus." I said darkly, "The Algea."

As I finished there was a screech from behind us, and I turned to see three women gliding towards us, their forms shifting and changing. The first stretched out her hands, and, gliding past Croesus and Lydia in less than a second, fixed her hands on either side of my head.

My vision blacked, and my mind was filled with a blinding pain. My entire body felt like it was on fire, and was being pressed against white-hot iron. I collapsed, as the Roman boy wailed and ran, shrieking as he did so; "Hands spread the fire! Water, water, but still it burns!"

**Another slight cliff hanger, but I absolutely promise that Chapter 10 will be posted at some time on Saturday, February 11. If I fail to do so, please write me an angry review or PM and file a lawsuit. Hope you liked this part, and please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I would like to begin this Author's Note by exending public congratulations to roach26 for correctly guessing that 216 B.C was the year in which Hannibal Barca of Carthage killed over 50,000 Romans in one day at the Battle of Cannae. Tad bit of history for you all. Anyways, as promised, here is the next chapter, so any of you who may have been fondly considering suing me must rest disappointed. Sorry. Well here it is. Let me know what you think.**

Chapter 10: In Which We Burn a Fort

I fell to the ground, writhing in pain as an unseen fire burned my flesh and bone. The only thing I could feel through the pain was the tight clench of the Algea's fingers on my temples. The flames spread through me from the fingers, and I remembered what the boy had said as he fled from us.

"_The hands spread the fire." _I managed to think as the pain burned me. The fingers tightened, and another wave of fire swept through me. I arched my back, and screamed in pain and anguish. I tried to reach my hands up to my head, but the pain intensified. There was nothing I could do. I thrashed madly about, throwing my head around and trying to force the spirit to release its grip, but to no avail. My body ached, and felt like it was on the verge of simply disintegrating. I prayed to my mother, to every god I had ever heard of, begging for it to end, but nothing happened. It felt like every one of my limbs was slowly being torn off, like my head was slowly being split by the fingers that clenched it.

Then, suddenly, it did end. The pain disappeared, the grip of the fingers vanished, and I was rocketed back into the world. I opened my eyes slowly, my head still throbbing and ringing. I saw Croesus holding off one of the spirit-women with his sword, the tip leveled at her face, the weapon long enough to keep her at bay. Lydia was trying to ward off another, both knives unsheathed and slashing wildly, barely dodging the hands of the Algea. I knew she couldn't hold out forever, and I struggled to force myself to my feet.

That was when I saw the Roman, grappling with the Algea who had been attacking me, his hands fixed around her throat. Her hair was a stringy dark grey, dead-looking, and her skin was wrinkled and scarred, hanging loosely on her frame. She had a vice-like grip on his shoulders, and as I watched he threw his head back and screamed in pain. But the boy's fingers didn't relax their grip for a second. The Algea started thrashing, as its oxygen was cut off.

"_Can you strangle an immortal?" _I thought for a second, before realizing that I couldn't afford to wait and find out. Ignoring the stabbing pain in my legs, I jumped to my feet and slapped my bracelet, running over and picking up my spear before joining battle. I went for the one who had attacked me first. Personal reasons. Winding up, I launched my spear at the creature, watching as the tip and a good portion of the shaft punched through the creature's side. Golden ichor bled from the wound, as the Roman kid released his hold on the Algea's neck, kicked her in the face and sent her staggering back a couple paces and into the wall of a decrepit building. The slight imbalance was enough to bring the whole thing crashing down on top of her.

"They may be immortal," I muttered to myself as i sprinted over to help out Lydia, "but that's got to hurt. As I ran over to my friends, the Roman stopped. "Fire!" he yelled at me, "Unquenchable fire!" As he finished he turned, ran into the main keep building.

"Where are you going?" I roared after him, turning as if to follow.

"Sander!" Lydia yelled, and I spun around, getting a glimpse of her lying on the ground, having tripped. The Algea stood triumphantly over her, and reached down with its hands.

"I don't think so." I muttered, drawing my sword and launching it end over end at the creature.

Fortunately, I hit the thing. Unfortunately, it his hilt first, so all the strike did was make the thing angry, and leave me weaponless. I guess it distracted it from Lydia too, which was good.

But now it was after my blood. I raised my shield, prepared to defend myself, as the Algea struck. Its fingers grated off my shield, producing a horrible sound. I kicked the creature in the knee, and it stumbled a bit, giving me enough time to smack it in the face with my shield. The rim cut into its face, leaving a small wound from which ichor bled down into its eyes.

"Foolissh half-blood." The Algea hissed. "We re immortal. We cannot die, as you can."

"That may be true," I said, trying to shield-bash the creature again, "But you can still feel pain!"

The Algea cackled. "Pain? You imbecile! I am Lupe, the Algea! I _am_ pain!"

With that, she leaped at me, claw-like hands outstretched. I tried to block with my shield, but her right hand made it through and made contact with my shoulder. Burning filled me again, my mind reeling. But I wouldn't give in. I lashed out, and felt my fist make contact with flesh. There was a crack, Lupe shrieked, and the pain vanished. My vision cleared, and I found myself without my shield. It was lying a few feet to my left, utterly out of reach.

Lupe cackled again in delight, and stretched out her hands. I backed slowly away, but she snarled and jumped at me again. I braced myself for the pain, and prepared to strike back again. But before she even reached me, a small packet struck her in the shoulder, and burst into flame. I looked at her dumb founded, but she sneered at something over my shoulder.

Lupe screamed in pain. "You dare defy us?" she shrieked, "You dare attack me?"

I turned and saw the Roman, more of the strange packets in his arms. I stared at him, realizing that this was what he had gone into the keep for. By now Lupe was almost entirely engulfed in flames. The fire seemed to burn off of nothing, catching on her skin, and sparks flying through the air.

"Unquenchable fire." the kid said, satisfied. "Water, water, but still it burns. Your time here is over, spirit. No more pain, no more suffering, and no more heads!"

He turned and launched three packets at the Algea who was still struggling to get past Croesus's sword. They stuck to the creature and instantly burst into flames. The Algea screeched in shock and pain as it was completely consumed by the fire. Thrashing wildly about, the creature ran madly away from us, and crashed into one of the old wooden structures. The building collapsed on top of her, and immediately went up in flames. Sparks flew, and within seconds the entire complex was on fire.

"Crap." I said, watching as first the buildings, and then the decaying remains of the dead men turned into a flaming mess. I turned back to see Lupe, still flaming, glaring at me.

"You will never find Erik. The Grave of Numa has been lost for thousands of years, and only the daemons can find it."

She drew breath to go on, but there was a flash of bronze and an arrow appeared in her throat. Lupe gasped, and then fell to the ground, and dissolved, leaving the four of us alone in a burning Roman camp. I glanced over my shoulder to see Croesus, bow drawn with another arrow already knocked.

The Roman kid started laughing hysterically, dancing around as flames lapped at the buildings surrounding him. "No more pain!" he laughed, hopping up and down. "No more pain! No more heads!"

Croesus walked quickly up to him and slung the kid, still laughing, over his shoulder. "Let's get going." he said to me and Lydia. "If we stay here any longer we'll end up like the Algea."

I nodded, and scooping up my shield, sword and spear, followed Croesus and Lydia out of the fort at a fast run.

**Hope you liked it! Please review. I can't promise you a chapter tomorrow because my lawyer is on vacation, but I'll do my best. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Well unfortuately I didn't manage to publish last Sunday. Here's the next chapter though. My computer was having some difficulty uploading to Fanfiction, which is why I'm publishing today instead of yesterday. I should manage to put another chapter up for you all sometime today though. Oh and I got bored with/ran out of ideas for chapters beginning with 'In Which' so they won't appear with as much frequency as before.**

Chapter 11: The Next Step

Despite the additional weight of the kid on his shoulder, Croesus moved fast. He jogged along through the woods with Lydia and I struggling to stay with him as Fort Hadrian collapsed in flames behind us. We ran for about a half an hour before I was too worn out to go on.

"Gods..." I gasped for breath, "Croesus take...a break for a second. I'm way...too out of shape. We should be far enough...away from the fort by now, and those...Algea didn't look like they were going to be staging...a pursuit any time soon."

Croesus looked warily at me, and then back the way he came. "We should keep moving. You don't want to underestimate them, Sander. The Algea are vicious, determined, and worst of all, immortal. We may have dispersed their respective essences for the time being, but they'll gather enough strength to reform eventually."

"And...will that...be in the next five minutes?" I asked, still panting.

Croesus's face soured slightly, but after a pause he shook his head.

"Great." I said, regaining composure. "Then I can have those five to rest."

Croesus shrugged and set the Roman kid on the ground, then set to pacing as I collapsed with my back against a tree. Lydia sat cross legged on the ground next to the kid and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"You said that the Algea will need time to reform." I said to Croesus as he walked anxiously back and forth. "But I thought it was only the monsters that reformed from Tartarus."

Croesus nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as he paced. "It is." he said quietly. "The Algea, along with the other spirits, daemons, gods, and titans, are immortal, and cannot be killed. But they can be weakened, often to the degree that they no longer have the strength to command a defined shape and exercise their power. When this happens, their essences disperse, mostly to areas where there sphere of influence is strong. For instance, if Hephaestus was wounded severely enough, he would no longer be able to take any form, but his consciousness would flee to take shelter in, say, the forge of a mortal or some such. Perhaps a factory or something."

He paused the way a teacher would at the crucial point in a lecture. "I think it's safe to say that lighting the Algea on fire and bringing buildings down on two of them while hitting the third in the mouth with an arrow is sufficient to disperse their essence. For how long, I can't say. Could be a day, maybe a month, or even a few years. Immortals always reform faster than monsters, so likely we will still be alive, perhaps even still on this quest when the Algea do reform, and they'll come after us immediately. In the long run our little escapade at the fort probably served only to make them angry."

I raised an eyebrow at him as he finished. "Well that's depressing." I said frankly. "So we're going to spend the rest of our lives fending off attacks from the Algea?"

Croesus shrugged. "It's a possibility." he said, "But unlikely. There's a pretty good chance that an Olympian would be willing to intervene on our behalf. Either of mine or Lydia's godly parent would probably do so. The daemons pretty much do their own thing and only serve the gods in name, but none of them would dare cross the Olympian Council by disobeying a direct command from one of the members. The weakest of the gods could make the existence of the Algea ten times worse than the Algea could make any of ours."

"Well that's good then." I said sarcastically. "Always nice to know your friends' parents can protect you."

Croesus chuckled halfheartedly. "Take help from where you can, Sander. Even if it's a former enemy offering."

I shrugged and leaned back against the tree. "So what's the plan? What's our next step?"

Croesus stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "We find Erik at the Grave of Numa." he said simply.

"Croesus." Lydia said, "The Grave of Numa is _lost_. There's no way we could find it, even if we had years to spend searching, which, I'm sure I need not remind you, we do _not_. If we don't find Erik as soon as possible, the camps will be at war within the year."

Croesus sighed and slumped down into a sitting position. "I know." he said with frustration, "But it's the only thing even remotely close to a lead that we have. We know that's where Erik is, we just need to..." he trailed off and his eyes widened. "Anius." he said softly. "We could talk to Anius."

Lydia nearly shot to her feet. "Oh no." she said. "Not him. Anyone but him."

Croesus stood up too. "There isn't anybody _but _him. He's my half-brother, and a seer, so even if he can't help us find the Grave, at least we could get some information on whether or not a war is really coming. We need his help, Lydia."

I looked from one to the other. "So..." I asked slowly, "Who is this guy exactly?"

Croesus sighed and sat down on the ground again, and Lydia followed suit. "He's a son of Apollo." Croesus said as if that made everything clear. I gestured for him to continue. "Once the King of Delos, Apollo gave Anius the gift of prophecy when he was young. The Greeks stayed with him for a time on the way to Troy, and he correctly prophesied that the war wouldn't be won until its tenth year. After the sacking of Troy, Aeneas, along with his father and the rest of the Trojan refugees with him, stayed with Anius and requisitioned supplies. In reward for the equal treatment he showed to both sides in the conflict, Apollo made him immortal."

I nodded. "He sounds like a good guy. What problem do you have with him?" I asked Lydia. She shivered slightly and shifted position, but didn't answer. I looked at Croesus, who shrugged at me.

"It's her place to tell you, not mine." he said simply.

I stared at him for a moment, but he met my gaze evenly. "Okay whatever." I said finally. "So where do we find this guy?"

"Columbus." Croesus said. "We have something of a trip ahead of us."

**Not too much action in this chapter, but it was necessary to set up following events. Hope you all liked it, and please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Apologies for the delay in the update. I was out of town from Sunday until today and did not have access to a computer. Anyhow, here it is. This one is a bit slow-moving as well, but things will begin to pick up again. Enjoy, read, and review!**

Chapter 12: In Which We Steal a Car

It took us about another half an hour to hammer out a plan. We didn't have enough time or supplies to sustain a journey to Columbus on foot, but neither did we have any money for a bus or train ticket. Croesus suggested we walk back to Varro's house and ask him for help, but Lydia and I shot that down saying that it would take us more than the rest of the day to get back there, and that heading back towards Fort Hadrian probably wasn't a good idea. Finally, Lydia suggested that we head for the nearest town and 'borrow' a car from someone. With no other options, that was what we decided to do.

Which was why, two hours later, I was kneeling in the mud next to a lonely country road, impatiently waiting for a car to appear. The Roman kid was next to me, sitting on the ground and muttering to himself. Lydia and Croesus were out of my sight, lying low to the ground across the road. The plan went something like this:

I was to wait for a car capable of seating at least 4 people to drive along the road. Upon seeing the car, I was to stand up and hit the passenger-side front window with a rock large enough to get the drivers attention. Hopefully, that would incense the driver to the degree that he or she stopped and got out of his or her car to go lecture me or something. When they did that, Croesus and Lydia would sneak up from the other side, get into the car, and drive away. I pointed out that this would leave me and the kid with an angry man or woman who just had their car stolen. Croesus shrugged and told me to run as soon as the person got out of the car. The plan was to rendezvous in Albion, a town about three miles from where we planned to stage the heist.

"There are more holes in this damn plan than in a slice of Swiss cheese." I muttered as I squatted in the mud. The Roman kid laughed and clapped his hands together a few times. Despite myself, I cracked half a smile. "I never got your name, man." I said quietly to him as the sound of a motor reached me. I prepared to launch a good-sized rock, but then relaxed as a motorcycle came into view.

The kid shivered slightly and opened his mouth "C-Camillus. L-Lucius Camillus."

I smiled. "Nice to meet you Lucius."

Just then another motor sound reached me. This time it was more than a four-seater, one of those Fords or something that have four wheel drive and got less than 15 miles to the gallon. It would do. I pulled back my arm and let loose, flinging a rock across the road and smacking the side of the car with a solid clang. I missed the window, which was probably a good thing because as it is the rock left a medium-sized dent in the metal. The car screeched to a halt and a short, squat man with stringy brown hair got out. He made straight for me, a furious scowl on his face. I turned my back to him and was about to start running when I changed my mind.

"Screw this," I muttered, "I'm not walking to goddamn Albion. Stay here, Cam."

Camillus, who had been about to turn and run, stopped and short and looked questioningly at me. I opened my mouth to answer, but it was too late, the car's owner was there.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he yelled. "Throwing rocks at my car! What the fuck is your problem?"  
>I smiled sheepishly and tightened my grip on my sword. When I didn't make an answer the man leaned forward as if to grab me. Lightning-fast, I unsheathed my sword and swung, smacking him in the side of the head with the flat of the blade, just hard enough to knock him out cold. The guy crumpled to his knees.<p>

I bent down and with Camillus's help, pulled him over to the side of the road, and out of the way of passing cars. Then I walked over to his car, where Lydia and Croesus were both staring at me, Lydia white-faced, and Croesus with his face blank.

"Gods." Lydia said softly. "Sander, what on earth did you just do?"

I shrugged. "It seemed kind of stupid that Cam and I would have to walk to Albion to meet up with you two, when we could have just temporarily incapacitated the guy, like I did, and been on our merry way." I said calmly. "I don't see what the problem is, he'll be fine. Might wake up with a slight headache, but no harm done."

Croesus just looked at me, but Lydia wasn't through yet. "No, Sander, plenty of harm done. When he wakes up, he'll remember your face, and the kid's, and report you two to the police for assault or something." She said, shock being replaced with fury.  
>I waved her protests away. "He would have seen my face if I had run anyway, and reported me as a car thief. The way I see it, it doesn't really make much difference."<p>

Lydia opened her mouth to go on, but Croesus cut her off.

"He might be right." he said quietly, his face still blank and his eyes studying me. "Nonetheless, Sander, you do not harm mortals unless there is no other option, which was not the case in this instance. You could have run, and lost him before meeting us in Albion. However, you already knocked the guy out, so all we're doing right now is wasting time. I want to reach Columbus by tomorrow morning, so we need to leave."

Lydia glared at first me, and then Croesus, before turning and storming around the car and sliding into the driver's seat. I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"How long do you think she'll stay angry with me?"

Croesus cracked a smile, but his eyes remained studiously focused on me. "Not to long." he said, chuckling. "Less, if you save her from some other bloodthirsty daemon."

I laughed at that. "If we're lucky," I said, "we won't meet any more."

Croesus shook his head. "Oh we will." he said with certainty. "There's bound to be more at the Grave, if the daemons were really the ones who took Erik, and he wasn't just killed with the rest."

"Not dead, not dead." Camillus muttered, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. "No head, not dead." he chuckled. "They came and took him all right. No head, not dead."

Croesus spread his hands in acceptance. "Very well, my friend...Camillus?" The last part was aimed at me, and I nodded. "Then very well, Camillus." Croesus went on. "I'll take your word for it."

"Croesus." I said, stopping him as he made to get into the car, "What does the involvement of the daemons mean for the camps?"

His face darkened. "I'm not sure." he said grimly. "But whatever it is, its nothing good for either camp, or for the Olympians."  
>I opened my mouth to ask more, but was cut off.<p>

"I thought we were on a tight schedule here!" Lydia yelled angrily from inside the car. Croesus laughed and with Camillus got into the back, leaving the front passenger seat for me.

**Hope you liked it! Please review. Even a few words are more than welcome. Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Well here's the next chapter. Hope you all like it, and after you decide if you did or not, write a review!**

Chapter 13: Dreams

I slid into the shotgun seat and flashed a smile at Lydia. She glared at me, then started the car and slammed her foot down on the accelerator. My head jerked back into the head rest, and then forward, nearly into the dashboard. Rubbing my head, I looked over at her again. Now she was smiling.

"Gods Lydia." Croesus said from the back seat. "Try and get us there alive."

"Shut up, Croesus." she said casually, and then fixed her eyes on the road. "Get me that map in the glove compartment." she added.

"Who-me?" I asked, looking around for the compartment.

"No, Sander." she said sarcastically, "I was actually talking to the car door."

"Gods." I muttered, offering the map. "Touchy, touchy."

She didn't answer. "Find where the next turn is to get to Columbus." she said, ignoring the proffered map.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, I opened the map and rifled through it. "Turn right up here to get onto Freeway 130, then take that as far as Interstate 64. I'll let you know whats next when we get to the Interstate."

Lydia nodded but didn't look at me. We drove on in silence for a while as the sun set and night came on. I heard Camillus shift in his seat and Croesus yawned.

"Well." he said, "I'm going to try and get some sleep. Lydia, don't kill Sander."

She mumbled something unintelligible and kept her eyes on the road. I could almost sense Croesus shrug and settle back into his seat, closing his eyes. Within minutes he was snoring.

I braved a sidelong look at Lydia. Her face was still set in lines of anger. Sighing slightly and shrugging, I leaned back into my seat, closing my eyes.

"You shouldn't have done it." she said suddenly, without looking at me. My eyes shot open, and I turned to look at her.

"We didn't have the time for the alternative." I said cautiously. "It would have given the man time to get the police on our trail. This way, we'll have a couple hours head start when he wakes up."

"That doesn't matter!" Lydia yelled, slamming her hands into the dashboard. Camillus shifted and Croesus muttered something about an oboe. She took a deep breath. "Sander...you just can't harm mortals. Ever."

"Come on Lyd..." I murmured.

"Don't _ever_ call me that." She said seriously, her face darkening even further with anger. "My _father _called me that."

I gulped nervously. "Oh-Okay." I said.

She nodded. "Go to sleep, Sander. I can manage the directions from here."

Not willing to argue with her in this mood, I complied. My eyelids drooped, and I was asleep in minutes.

I stood in a dark room, a hard floor beneath my feet. A mist obscured all but a few meters in any direction, so I had no way of telling how large the room was. The mist swirled and seemed to whisper, a cacophony of voices and sounds that clouded my head.

"Who's there?" I asked loudly, "What do you want from me?"

The mist cleared and I was standing in some sort of parlor. It looked old, not like anything from this century. It looked like it had been renovated, preserved against time. I looked around me, and noticed a woman sitting a few feet to my left in a plush armchair. We stared at each other for a moment, as I took everything in.

The woman looked strikingly similar to me, the same dark eyes and black hair. But her skin was pale, almost completely drained of color. She stood up as I watched her, and glided over to where I was standing.

"You've grown, child." she said softly. Her voice was light and casual, but as she spoke I felt my shoulders lift with courage, and I was filled with determination and a steely resolve.

"Alale." I said quietly, not quite willing to call her 'Mom.' "Where are we?"

She smiled slightly, and her form shifted. Suddenly she was dressed in bronze armor, a round shield slung across her back and a spear in hand. I blinked, and the armor was gone, leaving her in only a purple robe.

"You stand in the House of McLean, my son." she said, inspiring courage again with every word. "It was here, nearly two hundred years ago, that the last great war between camps was ended by unconditional surrender. The mortals knew the conflict as the Civil War."

"Ah." I said, looking around again. "Why did you bring me here?"

Alale walked back to her chair and sat down again, gesturing for me to do the same. I followed and reclined in an armchair across from her.  
>"I brought you here because I needed to speak with you. To warn you." she said, looking directly at me. "Events have been set in motion by more than human means, but the Olympians do not know this. They see only the stalk of the plant, but are blinded from the root. The Roman praetor, Titus, he is not the enemy. He is but a pawn of greater powers. The Council has grown arrogant. They bested Kronos and Typhon, they defeated the Giants and foiled Gaea. But without heroes, the gods would have perished long ago. Their enemies know this, and so the demigods become the targets. There cannot be a war between the camps, Lysander. It would be the end of Olympus."<p>

"Well thanks." I said sarcastically, "But we pretty much had that figured out already."

Alale narrowed her eyes. "Be that as it may, be on your guard. Things are stirring once again. Old spirits awaken, few of them friendly. If the gods do not take this threat seriously, they will end. Make sure that they do."

"Okay." I said, "Why can't you warn them?"

She smiled sadly. "The spirits of war are not trusted on Olympus. We have a history of being...wild cards, if you will. Add to that, the Olympians look down on all of the daemons and the spirits as being weak, lesser immortals. They feel they are superior. Their first mistake."

"So what makes you think they'll believe me then?" I demanded.

"You will have the support of some of their favorite children. Your friend Croesus is a preferred child of Apollo, Lydia that of Demeter, and of course the legendary Percy Jackson. Convince him of the truth, and the entire council will listen."

I nodded. "Very well. But what can you tell me of the Grave of Numa?" I asked, hoping to get some information before we met Anius.

Alale sighed. "I was not a part of Rome, child. My knowledge is very little. The King of Delos will know. For now, I need to leave you to your sleep."  
>As she spoke the mist rose up again, obscuring the room, and then I lapsed into normal sleep, albeit dreamless.<p>

**Please review. Be as critical and harsh as you see fit.**


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